


The Dream

by vinnie2757



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, its smut its unashamed smut, theres a secret headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinnie2757/pseuds/vinnie2757
Summary: The Captain has a dream, and doesn't everyone get to hear about it.
Relationships: Cid Highwind/Shera
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	The Dream

**Author's Note:**

> I am living for this ship and all the nonsense they provide.

It’s a hot summer, so they’re all stripping off to an extent under the sun. At the most, they’re in t-shirts and tying their overalls around their waists. Cid’s twenty-three, so naturally at the first opportunity he’s got his shirt off, and a few of the other mechanics join in with this refusal to be protected from the sun. The wives that have been dragged to their half-grown town, they just roll their eyes, and bring them lemonade. The boys all take pot shots at each other over tattoos and scars and arm hair, and most of them rib Cid for the freckles on his shoulders, because he’s blond, so of course he gets freckles in the sun.

But then, there is a slight problem to this joyous celebration of good weather.

And that problem is called Shera.

Oh, she’s a good worker, for sure. She’s up in the scaffolding with the rest of them, and she’s small enough to squeeze past them all to get her nimble fingers into the gaps and feed wires through. She laughs with them at dinner, and she makes a fucking _amazing_ breakfast, always nags them about fruit, but never forces them. She’s great.

But she keeps wearing t-shirts and trades out her overalls for shorts belted high around her waist and every time she bends over, Cid’s whole universe narrows to the curve of her arse.

This isn’t to say that she does it deliberately. She doesn’t, he’s sure, because she seems utterly unaware of any compliments they level at her.

And well, she’s pretty enough, and she’s the only unmarried girl in a, what, eighty mile radius that’s not twice his age. It’s totally normal to be attracted to her, in so much as he’s aware of her existence.

So it’s normal, he reasons later, to be – to _dream_ about her.

He lies there, late in the night, in a haze from the sun and the progress they’ve made on their first prototype, and he hears them at the inn, his belly full of good food from the girls’ cooking, and he hears some of the lads singing. Drunks, the lot of them. It’s warm, so he only has a thin sheet on, just his boxers, instead of the t-shirt too. He lies there, and he drifts.

And she comes to him, in his dream. She’s in her t-shirt and shorts, with no shoes, and her hair is finger-combed back, ends damp with summer sweat. Her glasses are missing, and she’s not wearing a bra, and he doesn’t know why he takes notice of these things. She comes to him, and she sits on the edge of his bed, runs her fingers down the lines of his chest, traces the hair. She’s smiling.

‘Shera,’ he breathes, and she smiles wider, her eyes bright and wicked.

‘Captain,’ she replies, and her ponytail bounces.

Her skin is warm under his fingertips, her thigh soft, and the denim of her shorts is rough in comparison.

She shifts, and he looks up from the spattering of freckles, or oil spots, on her leg, finds her pulling her shirt over her head. She’s got no bra on, and his mouth goes dry. Her tits are perfect, pert and round and not weighed down by their own mass. Small nipples, hard, and his cock stirs, a little.

‘For you, Captain,’ she tells him, and her hands are by his head as she pushes his legs out of the way to climb into his lap.

‘Yeah?’

She’s nose to nose to him, and he’s never really put much stock in kissing. But her mouth is warm, and wet, and she tastes of tea, and her fingers are warm on his face, and he can’t get enough of it. Certainly not when she starts grinding on him, a slow back and forth and fuck, he grabs her hips, stills her.

‘Shera,’ he gasps, his mouth burning against hers, breath so hot, ‘fuck me.’

‘If you want me to,’ she replies, and kisses the corner of his mouth, one of her hands trailing down his chest to make very short work of his boxers.

Her fingers are callused, the same as his, but they’re soft around his cock, holding him firm and stroking exactly the way he likes, the way he strokes himself. He knows it’s a dream, so of course she is. But he knows she’s been watching him, sneaking peeks when he should have been alone.

‘You’ve been watching me,’ he tells her, and bucks into her hand.

She laughs.

‘Captain,’ she breathes against his lips. ‘You’re going to give me a bad name.’

She shifts her weight, legs folding back to allow her to move closer to the end of the bed, and he almost misses the weight of her in his lap, but her mouth’s on his dick, swallowing him whole and – and –

‘Fucking hell,’ he moans, fingers trying, and failing, to find her hair, so he claws the sheets instead.

‘Are you going to come for me?’ she asks, and he hates how weak the noise he makes is.

‘No,’ he says, the way a child who’s been caught in the cookie jar denies it.

‘Then I need to try harder,’ she hums, and he’s sure he goes cross-eyed.

‘Shera,’ he pants, ‘Shera, you gotta stop. Shera, Shera.’

And with a moan, and a jolt, he’s awake. Someone outside is laughing. It’s early, the sun still below the horizon but tinting the sky pink. There’s a low mist, and no clouds, and he lies there panting and staring at the ceiling.

‘Fuck,’ he whispers, when he sits up and his boxers shift, and it’s –

‘Fuck!’ he repeats, louder.

He sits there for a second, eyes screwed shut, and he breathes. He might as well just kill himself now, to be honest.

Fuck sake, he’s got to wash all this shit before it can be put in with the laundry. Maybe if he does it early enough, he can get it dried and nobody will notice.

Cid has never been particularly lucky, and of course he manages to get his boxers washed in the sink, but the sheet is giving him so much grief that he’s distracted when the door knocks and he shouts, ‘come in!’ without thinking about it.

And of _course_ it’s Shera that walks in. Of course it is. She’s in a t-shirt and her overalls are tied around her waist, and she’s wearing a bra, and he hates himself for looking.

‘Captain?’ she asks, her eyes so wide. ‘Are you alright?’

He realises he’s stood there with his bedsheet in the sink, a pair of soaking wet (but clean!) boxers on the side, and it all looks so suspect. He’s ready to deny it, he’s ready to face it head-on if she wants to be that guy.

Instead, her brow wrinkles, and she says, ‘did you have a nightmare?’

He blinks at her. ‘What?’

‘It was really hot last night, I had awful dreams, woke up covered in sweat, had to rinse my pyjamas out.’

‘Oh,’ he says, and he doesn’t know if she’s deliberately giving him an out, but he’s taking it. ‘Yeah, really – horrid dream, to be honest. Thought I’d try and get the sweat off before it stains the sheet.’

She nods, and just helps herself to his space. He’s in trousers, but not a shirt, and she hip-checks him out of the way to pull the sheet out of the sink and refill it.

‘Soap and leave it to soak,’ she says, and she smells of soap, fresh and her ponytail is bouncing with the nod of her head.

He licks his lips, swallows, and finally nods.

‘Sure,’ he says.

‘I’ll be taking all the sheets next week, do you think you can hold on with it until then?’

‘I think so,’ he nods, and she smiles up at him, close enough that he can feel her breath against his face.

The dream comes back to him and he shudders, steps away.

‘Was it bad?’ she asks, ‘your dream?’

‘Guess so,’ he says.

‘I dreamt about my sister,’ she says, and Cid wrinkles his nose.

‘Didn’t know you had a sister,’ he says, and carefully pulls his boxers out of view while tossing her a cloth to dry her hands.

Shera sighs, sad. ‘I didn’t know her, she was away a lot. She died when I was six. My parents don’t talk about her much, just that she was a scientist, working with Materia.’

‘So brains run in your family,’ Cid says, and she nods.

‘Oh, sorry, Captain, I’m – you get on with your morning! We’ve got some fresh eggs in, we can do eggs and bacon, if you like? And pancakes, if you want.’

He would kill a man for her pancakes, but he won’t tell her that.

‘Sure,’ he nods.

She offers him another smile, and off she goes, leaving him to his mortification.

He debates not going to breakfast, but he hasn’t missed a breakfast to date, and so he has to go. He’s wearing a shirt, and puts his overalls on, and Reine eyeballs him the moment he steps through the door.

‘You okay, Captain?’ she asks, ‘Shera says you had a bad dream.’

And immediately, the atmosphere in the dining room changes. The boys all look at him, with varying amounts of eyebrows raised, and they know. He’s not stupid, and neither are they.

‘You had a bad dream?’ John asks.

‘Fuck off.’

‘Was it very scary?’

‘Eat your own dick.’

‘Boys,’ Reine chides from the desk, ‘leave him be, he’s just got up.’

A snicker, and Cid will kill whoever it was.

They almost make it through breakfast without making any comments. Almost. He’s eaten all his bacon and is finishing off his eggs with some toast, and Shera’s sat opposite him with her tea.

‘Are you feeling better?’ she asks, ‘you looked really out of it.’

‘What’s this?’ Isak asks, over his tea, like there’s nothing to it.

Cid wants to lamp him.

‘The Captain had a bad dream,’ Shera says, earnest as anything, and the boys are all visibly biting their cheeks. ‘I went to see him, this morning, because – I forget why – but I went to see him, and he was all out of sorts. I thought he might be coming down with something.’

Someone on the far side of the table chokes on their eggs. Cid’s glad. Suffer.

‘I’m fine,’ he says, too loudly.

‘Was it a terrible dream?’ Livas asks, looking too serious for the smile playing on his mouth. ‘I’ve had some real bad dreams over the years.’

‘You served,’ Shera asks, ‘as well, right? Do you have dreams about the war?’

Oh God, they all think, in their own little way. She really thinks it was a nightmare.

‘Uh, yeah,’ Livas says, caught off-guard. ‘Yeah, they’re – nasty.’

She nods, her eyes sad.

‘It wasn’t about the war,’ Cid hurries to assure her, because otherwise he’s going to have to make up trauma, and he can’t be honest or lie about that shit.

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘Then what was it about?’

‘Leave him alone,’ Reine chides, ‘do you want your bad dreams being brought up over eggs?’

Shera flushes, and Cid’s blood twitches at the colour, remembers how she’d looked bent over him with her cheeks hollowed.

‘I don’t mind,’ she says, ‘a problem shared is a problem halved! And you know, maybe someone here can help with it.’

‘I’m sure they can,’ John says, because John’s a prick. ‘But it’s got to be the Captain that talks about it.’

‘Was it a truly terrible dream? Livas asks, because the floor is paved again now, ‘I always have bad dreams about my school’s language teacher.’

Cid grinds his teeth. ‘No,’ he says, ‘it wasn’t about my school’s language teacher.’

Mostly, because he didn’t have one. He had his first wet dream about his writing teacher, actually, go fuck yourself, but he’ll never admit that Madam Hughes had been attractive at all.

Reine puts her hands on her hips and frowns at her husband. Without a word, she tells him to control the boys, and John clears his throat.

‘Alright, lads,’ he says, ‘leave the Captain alone. We’ve got a lot of work to do today.’

But that doesn’t mean that they don’t all have their moments of teasing throughout the day.

‘You’re all _bastards_ ,’ he spits, because Shera’s elsewhere, so it’s not like he needs to worry. ‘So I had a fucking dream, who _cares_?’

At lunch, John takes him for a walk.

‘Now, I know I don’t have to do this, but Reine’s going to have my hide tanned if I don’t at least make it look like I am. You know, don’t you, that what happened is totally normal.’

‘Don’t fucking insult me,’ Cid spits. ‘I’ve had sex, you know. I know I’m decent to look at, and I’m the best pilot in ShinRa. It’s not like I don’t _know_ what it is. It’s a fucking dream because it’s lonely out here, and it happens.’

‘Was it about Shera?’

‘Fuck off, John, you have no right.’

‘I have every right, Cid, you heard her. She ain’t got a fucking clue.’

Cid stops walking. ‘So what, you think I’m gonna fuckin’ maul her? Lure her in and have my wicked way? Fuck sake, she ain’t that great! She’s a tight ass and a decent mechanic, it was a fucking _dream_.’

John looks at him like he’s protesting too much. Cid turns on his heel and walks away and refuses to talk to any of them for the rest of the day.

The problem is, he’s thinking about the dream for the rest of the day too, and he nearly strains his britches when Shera bends over a wall to reach the wires on the other side. Her feet leave the floor and he breathes deep, grabs her thigh to steady her.

‘What?’ she squeaks, and twists to look. ‘Oh, Captain. It’s only you.’

‘Thought you were going to fall,’ he grunts, and lets go. His face feels red, and she stays propped up to look at him.

‘Captain?’ she asks, ‘are you feeling quite alright? You’re red. You’d best go have a drink, you’ve been in the sun too long.’

He shakes his head, and walks away.

How is it she’s so _innocent_?

Later, he overhears Reine taking her to one side before dinner. He could walk in, interrupt it, but instead he presses himself to the wall, squats to pretend to be doing his boot lace.

‘Shera, you know what happened, don’t you?’ she asks, and Shera’s confusion is palpable.

‘Reine, he had a bad dream.’

‘I don’t think it was as bad as you thought it was.’

Shera heaves a sigh. ‘I don’t understand them! They’ve been laughing _all_ day, and the poor Captain’s had to listen to them, and they’re teasing him, but I don’t understand why!’

Reine laughs. ‘Shera, darling child. Why would a man the Captain’s age need to wash his sheets so early in the morning? What do men do when they’re around pretty girls?’

Shera doesn’t get it.

‘Do you have a brother?’ Reine tries, and Shera says no.

‘It’s just been me and my parents. No siblings.’

Reine taps her fingers against the counter.

‘You know about – biology.’

‘Yes.’

‘You know how we reproduce.’

‘Yes.’

Reine waits, but the realisation doesn’t come for her, and how? How is she so naïve?

‘Shera, he had a wet dream,’ Reine offers, and Shera takes a second before it finally sinks in.

‘Oh!’ she exclaims. ‘Oh no, and I kept drawing attention to it! They all knew, didn’t they? Oh no, I’ve made him look so – oh, I’ve got to say sorry to him!’

‘Maybe just don’t go to his cabin so early,’ Reine teases, ‘let him have his privacy.’

Shera doesn’t look him in the eye all through dinner, and he’s so used to her joining in the banter, even when she doesn’t really get it, so used to her looking at him for reassurance that the jibes aren’t serious, that the lack of eye contact makes him feel weirder than getting off on the thought of her sucking his dick did.

He calls her, when they’re all making their way to their cabins, and she stays behind. She stays in the inn, anyway, he’s the one that has to leave.

‘Shera,’ he says, ‘about this morning.’

‘I’m so sorry!’ she bursts out, ‘I didn’t realise, I didn’t know – I’m so sorry, they’ve all been laughing at you all day! It’s my fault, I’m so sorry, Captain.’

‘Oh, shut the fuck up,’ he snorts, ‘you didn’t know. And I wouldn’t be much of a Captain if I couldn’t handle a bunch of assholes like that lot. They’ve done worse than take the piss over me for – well.’

‘For your sexual fantasies,’ she says, in that weirdly clinical way she has that he understands now is born of absolute isolation as a child.

‘Guess so. Don’t beat yourself up over it. They’ll find something else to entertain themselves tomorrow, and it’ll be forgotten.’

But it’ll be months before he can look at her and not think about her naked, and in a couple years, he’ll convince himself he hates her guts for ruining his life, so it’ll be like it never happened.

(Until Meteorfall, anyway, and the aftermath, and the hours he spends running his fingers over every inch of her skin, tracing the shape of her nipples, and her thighs and bending her legs back to return a favour he’d accrued in a dream. She gets it then, finally, understands, and she’s happy to bring it to the waking world.)

**Author's Note:**

> ask me about my rocket town headcanons i have many, or prompt me for more drivel at my tumblr, also vinnie2757


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